She stares. That’s the first thing you notice about her. She tilts her head back with that sly suspicious smile, and she stares for a long time. And you think: “Do I have something in my teeth? Or does she wanna kick my [expletive]” — which is not gonna happen?
And then she’ll ask questions. “What’d you do last night, Viola?”
“Oh I cooked an apple pie.”
“Did you use Pippin apples?”
“Pippin apples, what the hell are Pippin apples? I used Granny Smith apples.”
“Oh. Did you make your own crust?”
“No, I used store-bought crust. That’s what I
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